


i hung the moon but you couldnt take your eyes off me

by Zuixen



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fandom needs more trans nagito, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I think i forgot english hold up, Its referenced because i find it funny, Kokeshi Dynamo, Let komaeda and mioda be friends, M/M, Mentions of izuru and servant in a relationship, Post-Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Praise Kink, Riding, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Komaeda Nagito, if you squint youll see that nagito has both a praise AND degradation kink, me too dude, tried to write porn and the first half is just emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26555914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuixen/pseuds/Zuixen
Summary: "Hajime…" If Hajime's previous words had been reverent, Nagito's whisper is downright religious devotion.~~~Nagito has a moment, and decides the best way to apologize to Hajime is to seduce him.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Mioda Ibuki/Tsumiki Mikan, Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham
Comments: 11
Kudos: 297





	i hung the moon but you couldnt take your eyes off me

**Author's Note:**

> As a preface, I myself am transmasc and use terms for Nagito I use for myself, but I know others are uncomfortable with certain terms. So as a trigger warning: the words p*ssy, wet, cl*t, and ovaries are all used in reference to Nagito. I do also mention that he received keyhole surgery, just in case that is important to anyone. 
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy!

The funny thing about Jabberwock Island, was that everything was too good. The grass too green. The dirt too soft. The water too blue. The sky too clear. The moon too bright, always round and full. The air was too clear, making even the healthiest person think they'd been an asthmatic before going there. 

Waking up had been a… weird transition. None of them remembered everything, it was a jumbled mix of their pasts and the simulation. Some couldn't even remember the majority of the simulation, like Saionji and Owari.

Nagito had been the last to wake, excluded from the group's sharing of memories. Even now, he insists it's fine. He doesn't really want to know what they all remember anyway, not when his own memories are enough to plague him. Besides, he doesn't care much to listen to Koizumi sob over her despair days or Souda's bothersome complaints.

He was still an outcast among the Remnants, after all. They may all have their own dark pasts, but that didn't mean they were any more keen to listen to Nagito speak. 

It had gotten better, though. After everything with the Future Foundation and their return to the real Jabberwock. Hinata had given Nagito another chance, convinced everyone to remember they weren't enemies. And things were looking up. Their days were full of hope and determination to improve. 

Tanaka let Nagito help with some of his animals, like the soft rabbits and skittish hens. Nagito's personal favorite is the gentle little fox kit that Tanaka was nursing back to health. They don't spend much time together, Nagito doesn't want to anger Souda by taking up his boyfriend's time. 

Owari is accepting of everyone so long as they go on runs with her. Nagito does his best, though he usually ends up panting against a tree after one minute. 

Mioda is the real savior, gleefully dragging Nagito around and inviting him to small gatherings. She sits him down and paints his nails, talking about anything that comes up.

"Ibuki knows you're sort of weird about her, but do you think Mikan likes Ibuki?" 

Nagito hums, watching Mioda brush dark purple polish over his human hand's nails (anything that wasn't Enoshima's hideous crimson). 

"She does appear more at ease around you. Why? Are you romantically interested in her? That's surprising." 

Mioda laughs, "Oh, Ibuki is sure it sounds odd. She did kill Ibuki in the game. But Ibuki totally forgave her ages ago. And now Ibuki thinks Mikan's super pretty."

"I think it would go well. I may not be the best judge of Tsumiki, but you should chase what makes you happy. That's how we bring hope to our lives." Nagito absently thinks of Hinata. Er, Hajime. He was allowed to use his first name now that they were an established couple, to the chagrin of most of their peers (particularly Souda and Saionji, who had actually become somewhat friendly while whining that Hajime shouldn't bother with Nagito).

Mioda nods, looking serious for once, "You're totally right. Ibuki has to ask Mikan out! Right now! Thank you, Nagito!" Mioda stands up swiftly and races out, not even bothering to close the polish bottle. 

Nagito watches her go. Oh, it's dark out. Hajime must be wondering why Nagito hasn't returned to their shared cottage for the night. He seals Mioda's bottle of polish and leaves, studying his painted nails as he walks. 

He likes when Mioda does them. It makes him feel much more human despite the robotic hand that hangs heavy on his left. It's better than nothing. It's a godsend compared to Enoshima's terrible limb. 

But it does cement his constant thoughts that he's lesser. Worthless. Subhuman. He really doesn't deserve the second chance the Ultimates have given him. He may believe everything he does is right, he feels no regret or remorse for the deaths of his simulated peers or his attempt to kill the rest of them, but that doesn't mean he doesn't see the way the others flinch when he laughs in a way a little too twisted for them. 

Even Mioda sometimes flinches when he holds something out to her. It's just how things are. He's fine with it.

Nagito knocks before pushing open Hajime's (their) door, a habit he keeps up despite Hajime's insistence he doesn't have to announce himself in their own residence. 

Moonlight—real, true moonlight, not that overly bright simulation stuff—filters through their thin curtain. The pale light illuminates the room, Nagito practically glowing under the silvery light. 

Everything was too good on Jabberwock island, Nagito thinks when Hajime looks at him like he's art in a museum, but Hajime is still too good in the real world. 

"I still don't understand that."

"What?" Hajime asks, startled from whatever he's thinking. Nagito has a pretty good idea of Hajime's thoughts, based on the barely there pink of his cheeks. He's sitting on their bed, a book set aside next to him. 

They hadn't dabbled much in the more sexual aspects of a relationship. As it was, Hajime had spent a week just trying to convince Nagito that he didn't have to apologize for sharing a bed. 

It had then taken another week to normalize touching while they slept. 

Nagito couldn't even remember when it had finally clicked that he could refer to Hajime by his first name. 

Nagito is glad Hajime has so much hope and determination, anyone else would've given up the moment Nagito said that he was an adult and had never held someone's hand. 

Hajime really is too good. 

"I don't understand how you could look at me like that."

"Like what?"

Nagito considers the way Hajime's dual colored eyes had watched him, gentle and admiring. It was strange. Far too kind for the likes of Nagito.

"I suppose the phrase 'like I hung the moon' would be fitting."

Hajime smiles, which he does a lot around Nagito. Another thing he struggles to understand. 

"To be fair, you aren’t much better. Although I think that your admiring stares have more to do with your self esteem."

Nagito hummed, "I'm afraid so. I don't think there's anything wrong with it. I have been trying to refrain from voicing my own failures, which really only leaves me with admiring the talent of all of you."

"I know, you've been getting a lot better. You know I'm proud of you, right?" 

Always so assuring. It was unlike Hajime, quite honestly. The brunet was not exactly the most patient, yet that was all he was around Nagito. So, so good. 

"You shouldn't be. I'm not any better, I'm just more socially acceptable. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm just too lowly, I could never be as bright and shining as you or the other are, Hajime. Look at me, I'm not even worth the time. No offense, but sometimes I wonder why you waste your precious time trying to fix something as broken as me. It's like trying to use tape to build a brick wall. I mean, I don't doubt you! You're so talented, with Kamukura somewhere in your head and all, you probably—no, definitely—could shape me into something to your standards." Nagito subconsciously held himself, one hand clutching his shoulder as he spiraled. "Mm, I'd let you do anything you thought would make me better.  _ You  _ know  _ that _ , don't you?" 

Whoops, he had gone into a tangent, hadn't he? Oh well, that was just what happened when you were as awful as Nagito. Surely Hajime knew that. 

"Nagito…"

"Oh, I've gone off again haven't I. So sorry, I told you, though—"

"Stop."

It's firmer than Hajime typically speaks. A command. Nagito thinks both of them hear the same thing: Izuru Kamukura. Hajime looks like he might apologize. Then he doesn't. He's standing now.

"I know you won't change. I don't want you to be some cookie cutter figurine. I want you to be you. And you aren't a disappointment, or disgusting, or worthless. And I hate when you insist these things are true."

Nagito frowns. He notices his own hands gripping his jacket sleeves and drops them. Right. Hajime just wants what's best. Wants Nagito to see what he sees. But that seems so impossible. Honestly, it's a little foolish of Hajime. 

"Certainly you'll get bored eventually, then you'll regret this. Our timeline is too scattered. Maybe when we were classmates, or before the murders started, we could've had the opportunity to build something. But now? Our memories aren't even whole. Kamukura, the despair, the killing school life. It's all in fragments. You know, Hanamura told me he doesn't remember killing Imposter. He ran off when I told him my memory of it." Nagito felt laughter try to bubble out of him, but that was inappropriate. Hajime wouldn't like it if he laughed at a friend's despair. He didn't want to upset Hajime, he just wanted to be honest.

"And you. Do you remember all of Kamukura's memories, or are they broken? If so, I'd gladly share some of mine. You were so very fond of my collar and chain, Izuru," Nagito purrs, his mind circling one particular memory. Kamukura was so detached, annoyed at himself for succumbing to such basic human urges when he was so far above humanity. Nagito remembered the euphoric mixture of hope and despair that had followed the pleasure racing through his veins.

Despair at what he'd come to. At letting Kamukura use him. Servant hadn't been opposed to it, though. He had found Kamukura's red eyes gorgeous, his long hair entrancing, the weight of his cock on Servant's tongue intoxicating, and the dirty talk positively thrilling. Now, it makes his skin crawl. Nagito will never be able to take enough showers to feel clean from those memories. 

His robotic hand whirs, tensed into a fist. Memories were so bothersome.

Hajime is wearing an expression of horror. Nagito must look dreadful.

"Please, I—" Hajime steps forward and pulls Nagito into a hug. Hajime is so warm. Is the door still open?

Nagito laughs. It isn't like the manic, wild laughter that his peers associate with him. It's more of a giggle, popping like bubbles and shaking his shoulders. 

"Nagito, I'm here. You can calm down. Everything is fine."

"Oh but it's not! You guys are always so keen to forget. You say you're better and despair is behind you. What silly Ultimates! Nothing will fix the past. Nothing changes our actions. We're monsters. Hanamura ate his mother! Mioda blew out peoples eardrums with her music! Hell, Kamukura shot me and I swooned! Hajime, don't you remember? Come on Izuru, don't you remember? I do! I remember too much, so much more than you all, because I don't fear it. Cowards, all of you. Not me, I see what went wrong. I fixed it! Me! A lowly creature managed to set things straight! And all it took was killing myself!" 

Nagito can't hear what Hajime is saying. The brunet seems to give up, shoving Nagito's face into his shoulder to shut him up. 

Unable to speak, all that he can do is laugh. At some point, the laughter becomes sobs. 

"It's okay. You can move on. The past can't be changed, but the future can. Please Nagito, come back to me." 

Hajime whispers, tucking his face against Nagito's shoulde. Now both of them are muffled. They stand there, huddled together until it falls silent. Huh. When did Nagito stop laughing?

He removes his face from Hajime's chest. The other man looks at him with concern and exhaustion. Exhaustion because Nagito can't keep it together.

No, no, no. No more of that. Not now. Hold yourself together. Stop stressing Hajime. 

"Sorry."

It's too little. Nagito isn't good at this. He doesn't know how to earn forgiveness. He hasn't ever needed to, people didn't stick around long enough for that. God, shut  _ up _ . Nagito forces all his negativity away. He has to make this up to Hajime. 

"I'm sorry, Hajime. I didn't mean to—look. I don't want to make things harder for you. And even if I could never be normal like you, I will—I am trying to do better."

Hajime's eyes are so gentle. He still looks concerned, but he no longer looks tired. One olive green and one crimson eye, studying Nagito. Ensuring he's in one piece. That calculating gaze has a shred of Kamukura behind it.

"I know you're doing your best. I wouldn't stick around if I thought you were hopeless," Hajime laughs a little at the unintended pun, "But more importantly I wouldn't stick around if I didn't love you."

"Hajime—"

"You don't have to explain yourself. All that matters is you're okay now. Remember; the past is just that. And I… I'm sorry about the past, too. I don't remember everything but I shouldn't have done, well, any of the things I did. You included."

Nagito laughs, and this time it's pure and sweet, "And here I thought that would be your favorite memory."

"It's kind of weird, since I don't remember it all. I have more memories of the despair around me than you, honestly. I guess Kamukura didn't really bother thinking about you much."

"That's no big deal." Nagito is glad Hajime doesn't remember seeing him in such a disgusting state. (Though, part of Nagito does sort of wish Hajime would push him around a little. Maybe they could discuss that later.) But for now, "I wouldn't mind replacing those memories, though."

At this, Hajime appears confused, "What?"

"Come on, I know you aren't that stupid." To clarify his offer, Nagito pushes Hajime back until he sits on the edge of the bed. He follows, straddling Hajime's hips. 

"Nagito, you just had a moment, are you sure about this?"

"If we were going to wait every time I got weird then we might as well just break up."

"That isn't an answer."

Nagito sighs. Hajime is so picky about details. Probably a trait he picked up solving those cases.

"Yes, Hajime, I'm sure." He almost says he wouldn't offer he wasn't sure, but that would be a lie. 

Sliding one hand up to loosen Hajime's tie, Nagito adds, "In fact, as an apology for that earlier spectacle, I think you should let me take care of you. It's the least someone li—the least I could offer." 

The few times they have tried sexual things, it was either Nagito blowing Hajime or Hajime fingering Nagito. This was mostly due to the fact that Nagito had been (and still is) under the impression that he doesn't deserve anything more of Hajime. 

"What do you mean?" 

Nagito presses his hips against Hajime's, leaning down until their lips are only a breath apart, "I mean, you should let me ride you. I want you to be able to take it easy."

Hajime's eyes dart between their hips and Nagito's face. He's clearly trying to decide if letting Nagito take charge is a good idea or if he wants to get Nagito off first. 

"Okay, yeah," Hajime breathes, not a trace of hesitance in his voice. 

Nagito smiles, "Thanks for trusting me."

The first thing Nagito does with that trust is fling Hajime's tie to some forsaken corner of the cottage. Then he closes the space between them, one hand looping behind Hajime's neck while the other made slow work of Hajime's shirt buttons. 

Despite what you may think, it isn't that easy to undo buttons, especially such small ones, with one robotic hand. Scratch that, it's hard to do anything related to buttons with a robotic hand. 

Hajime's hands eventually come to rest on Nagito's hips. He's the first to part his lips, tongue sliding across Nagito's lower lip. The pale man has no qualms opening his mouth for Hajime.

Quite honestly, he doesn't get the hype for French kissing. It's got no style or rules and he never knows where to put his tongue. It's way more fun later on, when his mind is hazy and all he wants is to taste Hajime. Or one particular time when Hajime had gotten curious after fingering Nagito and stuck his fingers in his own mouth. Nagito hadn't been able to stop himself from slamming their lips together to taste himself on Hajime's tongue. 

That experience had made him think about Hajime's mouth between his thighs, but it seemed rude to suggest such an act to Hajime after promising to take the lead. 

After a short eternity, Nagito has undone all of Hajime's shirt buttons. Unfortunately, he has to take his hands off Nagito's hips to slip the shirt off and drop it off the bed. 

"Are you gonna take anything off?" Hajime asks while they're separated. 

Nagito has never taken more than his pants and underwear off in front of Hajime. Well, he's obviously taken his coat off, too. It goes without saying that he's not confident in his body. The reason has nothing to do with his gender identity. Being trans actually brings very little self esteem issues to the table compared to the rest of Nagito's mindset. 

He slides off Hajime to kick his pants off. No, he's not self conscious about his birth sex. He doesn't even have noticeable scars on his chest (a swing of good luck left his keyhole looking as close to perfect as someone like Nagito could). If he were, he wouldn't have let Hajime touch him in the ways he had. 

Maybe he should try to be more accommodating, though. What better way to raise his self esteem like Hajime so desperately wanted than to go out of his comfort zone? That was how you were supposed to grow, right? Like taking the training wheels off a bicycle. 

Nagito shrugged off his coat and threw it at the coat hook on Hajime's door. (Ah, so he had closed it.) The fabric caught and hung perfectly. 

"Wow, good throw," Hajime says. 

"More like good luck. You think that was lucky enough to warrant a bout of bad luck?" 

Hajime sighs, "Doubtful. Now stop worrying," Hajime's voice takes on a hesitant confidence, "Didn't you promise me something?"

Nagito smiles, turning to straddle Hajime's lap again. He hadn't noticed that the brunet had shed his pants, too, leaving little barrier between their hips. 

"I wouldn't call it a promise, more of an offer. I believe I specifically phrased it as an apology."

"Right, specifically, but the promise was implied." 

Nagito rolls his hips down, humming at the pleasant fiction, "I suppose you're right. You always are, Hajime." 

Nagito's human hand reaches up to cup Hajime's face, "Now, ready for me to fuck you silly?"

Hajime startles at the bold question, but it's quickly replaced with smug determination, "I should be asking you that."

"Aw, is that the best you have?" Nagito asks while his hand slides down Hajime's torso to palm him through his underwear. 

This effectively shuts up the heterochromatic man. His eyes slip shut and the only sound to be heard is Hajime's delightful moans. Nagito is a big fan. 

He presses a brief kiss to Hajime's lips before trailing down to his neck. He drags his tongue across smooth skin. He sucks a faint mark beneath Hajime's jaw. Drags his teeth down to the crook of his neck. Here he leaves a much more prominent mark, biting down carefully and kissing the already forming bruise afterwards. He scatters a few more light marks across Hajime's collar like a crude necklace. Hajime had been entirely unsurprised by how much Nagito liked using his mouth, be it kissing, licking, sucking, or biting. In fact, Hajime was delighted to be lavished by Nagito's warm mouth. If not for the pleasure factor then for the fact that it would prevent him from talking. 

Nagito quickly grows bored of the fabric separating them, reluctantly sliding off Hajime's lap once again in order to drag the brunet's underwear off. While he's at it, he wiggles out of his own, leaving his shirt as the only article of clothing left between the two of them. 

Hajime is surprisingly shameless, eyes flitting down to Nagito's thighs. 

"You're amazing," Hajime says, unprompted. 

"Funny," Nagito murmurs, reclaiming his spot on Hajime's lap once again.

This time it's Hajime that reaches up to cup Nagito's face, "Quit it. You say I'm some great person, right? So if I say you're amazing, then shouldn't you believe me?" 

Nagito knew Hajime typically refrained from using his/Kamukura's status as Ultimate Hope against Nagito—or anyone really, so it was interesting to hear him refer to himself as great. 

"Of course, I'd believe anything you told me, Hajime. If you think I'm amazing, who am I to argue?" Nagito's human hand slips between their bodies, gently wrapping around Hajime. 

The brunet exhales, pulling Nagito's face closer so he can kiss him. 

See, this is something Nagito likes. The sweet, open mouthed kisses while his hand works Hajime towards euphoria. To be fair, he just likes kissing Hajime. His lips are soft, if a little dry, fitting perfectly against Nagito's. It's kind of a cheesy thought, the whole 'we fit like puzzle pieces' thing, that isn't fully true. While their lips meld together wonderfully, Nagito's bony hips and sharp chin often jab Hajime at unconventional times.

Nagito doesn't pay much attention to his own arousal until he notices that he's absentmindedly pressed his pussy against Hajime's thigh.

Just as he notices and prepares to apologize, Hajime groans, "You're so wet."

And if that doesn't send  _ something  _ shooting right up his spine, Nagito doesn't know what will. It's just an observation. A fact. But the way Hajime says it, almost reverently, makes Nagito's whole body heat up.

Hajime takes advantage of Nagito's pleasantly startled reaction, dropping his head to Nagito's neck. He wastes no time in returning Nagito's earlier favor, scattering hickeys across the pale skin. Indulging himself, Nagito rolls his hips, gasping softly at the friction he manages to create against Hajime's thigh. 

He doesn't even notice that one of Hajime's hands has traveled downwards until fingers prompt him to stop moving, to lift his hips up so there's enough space for Hajime's deft fingers to slide tantalizingly against Nagito's entrance. 

It's a mildly awkward position, both of them trying to use one hand to get the other off. Nagito's robotic hand is simply used for balance—he doesn't want to touch Hajime with the cold metal. Hajime's spare hand is on Nagito's hip, steadying him. 

Hajime boldly decides to start with two fingers, easily slipping inside Nagito due to the fact that he's embarrassingly excited. His thighs quiver involuntarily, a breathy sigh leaving his lips as Hajime starts up a slow pace. Any slower would be torturous. 

"Hajime…" If Hajime's previous words had been reverent, Nagito's whisper is downright religious devotion. 

"Wait, I don't want to cum until you're inside me," Nagito breathes, whimpering when Hajime's curl and press against him in the most wonderful way. 

Hajime stops peppering Nagito's neck with kisses to look up at him, "I want you to cum first, you deserve it."

Nagito shivers, "N—no, you're more important." His hand leaves Hajime's cock, grasping the sheet to balance himself before he tumbles off of Hajime. His thighs are quivering, threatening to give out at any second. How was he supposed to ride Hajime if his worthless body gave out before he got the chance?

A third finger is added, "Maybe to you, but you're more important to me." 

Nagito whimpers, selfishly rolling his hips, chasing his own pleasure on Hajime's fingers. Heat coils low in his gut, like a snake preparing to strike. 

"You're so gorgeous," Hajime murmurs, pressing a kiss to Nagito's cheek. The snake bares its fangs, a final warning before it attacks. 

"Hajime, please, I can't—I'm gonna—" 

Nagito's fingers dig into the sheets, robotic hand whirring from the force he uses. God, he's probably torn Hajime's sheets, hasn't he? Hajime's thumb lightly circles Nagito's clip and the snake strikes. Nagito forgets about the sheets, shuddering above Hajime, the brunet's name spilling from his lips like a plea. A prayer. 

Hajime murmurs sweet words the whole time, things too sweet for Nagito. Too good. He can't help but feel guilty. Hajime was too good for him. So, so good. Perfect. More than Nagito deserved. 

"Hey," Hajime says. 

Nagito is drawn back to the present, blinking slowly, "Huh?"

"Don't go out on me now, I mean it when I say you deserve this. Deserve everything and more." 

Nagito thinks 'oh, is there something in my eye?' before he tears up and lifts his human hand to tangle in Hajime's hair and press a desperate kiss against his lips. 

"Thank you," Nagito breathes when they part. 

"Anything for you," Hajime replies. 

Nagito sighs, ignoring his ever present desire to belittle himself. He could accept a few compliments. 

"Now it's your turn," Nagito says, shifting. His legs protest when he puts weight on them, but he has plenty of experience ignoring discomfort. He puts his human hand in the center of Hajime's chest, fingers splayed out, and pushes the brunet onto his back. 

Pale fingers drift down along Hajime's torso, milky hips lift upwards, grey eyes fix on mismatched ones. 

Nagito uses his hand to align their sexes, rubbing the tip across himself in a way that just teases them both. 

"You sure you can handle another round?" Hajime asks, his hands on Nagito's hips clearly able to detect the lingering quivers of his orgasm.

"I may be trash but I'm not that useless. I could take you all night." To prove his statement, Nagito doesn't hesitate to begin seating himself on Hajime's dick. The poor brunet is so caught up in the sensation he doesn't argue with Nagito's self depreciation. 

Unfortunately, Nagito is equally as silenced. Fingers and that silly kokeshi vibrator don't compare to how it feels to have Hajime inside him. If he were any less mentally stable, he could probably launch into a tirade about how blessed he feels and how this feeling is more euphoric than any hope could ever dream of being. 

Which is a stupid thing to think for various reasons. Mainly because not only are pleasure and hope so very different but also because this isn't the first time they've technically had sex, even if the memories of Kamukura and Servant are foggy at best, like a sideshow or montage.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Nagito blinks, his brain taking a moment to process that. Hajime has been watching intently, gentle hands rubbing surprisingly soothing circles on Nagito's hipbones. Huh. That's… kind of nice. Nagito might be able to get used to this praise, even if every part of him still insists he doesn't deserve it. It makes it all the more exciting. The thought that he's doing something he shouldn't, receiving these words of adoration so above someone like him. 

And, just a tiny bit, it made him feel good.  _ Proud. _ Like he really did deserve this, like he really was gorgeous. Wow, that sent a fun wave of guilt and excitement up his spine. 

Nagito is the first to move, taking a moment to work out the best way to move his hips before setting up a steady rhythm that left both him and Hajime breathless.

"Wait, Na—ah—gito," Hajime tightens his grip on Nagito's hips, which is definitely something Nagito would to explore at a different time, "You—you can't uh, get pregnant, right?"

Nagito means to sigh, but it's half a whimper, "Tsumiki removed my—my ovaries a few years ago." Yuck. He doesn't want to talk about his gross organs during sex.

Hajime's eyes flick to Nagito's shirt, "Is that why you wear your shirt every time? Scars?" 

Nagito rolls his hips, growing annoyed with this conversation, "No, I don't have any particularly noticeable scars. I just—"  _ hate the way I look. _ Hm. Probably shouldn't say that. Frustrated, Nagito leans back so all his weight is on his knees so he can pull off his shirt and throw it aside. 

Hajime looks at him with awe in his eyes, "You're like an angel."

Nagito's hips stutter in their rhythm, "I—what? That's—" He yelps as Hajime bucks upwards to meet a roll of Nagito's hips.

"I mean it, you look heavenly. Like artwork," Hajime marvels, "I love you so much."

Nagito whines, human hand placed on Hajime's chest to steady himself, "I love you, too, Hajime, so, so much."

"It's me who doesn't deserve you," Hajime says.

Nagito shakes his head, white curls falling into his face, words coming out shaky, "Don't say that."

"I'll say what I want," Hajime probably intends to sound cool or something when he says that, but it's hard to take him seriously when he's groaning Nagito's name beneath his breath. 

Nagito angles his hips a little differently, applies a little more force when he slides down Hajime's cock this time, and almost sobs at the pleasure that spikes through his body. 

It takes a moment to realize that his legs have finally given out.

"O—oh, sorry Hajime, I can't—my legs—I'm sorry, I'm useless aren't I?" Nagito whines, muscles contracting in a desperate attempt to get some sort of stimulation.

"Y—you could roll us over. Fuck me like the worthless toy I am. Please Hajime, use me, use me for your pleasure," Nagito sobs, staring down at the brunet. 

"Nagito—" Hajime seems to reach some sort of conclusion and delicately switches their position, settling between Nagito's wobbly legs. 

He pushes his hips upwards, "C'mon Hajime, use me, do whatever you want to me."

"What if I want  _ you  _ to feel good?"

Nagito whines, "But I don't deserve that. You, you're—" He moans at an obscene volume when Hajime slides back inside him. 

Words fail him, leaving him a whimpering mess below Hajime. 

"You deserve this," Hajime says. It's starting to sound like he's a broken record, always reassuring that Nagito isn't worthless. 

"You're, ha, beautiful."

"Angel."

"Stunning."

"Breathtaking."

"I love you. I want you to feel good. I want you to cum for me, Nagito."

Nagito keens, grabbing at Hajime. In his hazy mind, he doesn't even realize that his robotic hand is on Hajime's shoulder. The brunet is so kind. So good. 

"So go—oh, oh god—" Nagito buries his face in Hajime's shoulder, clinging to him and sobbing through his second orgasm. 

"Nagito?" 

"Mm, huh?" He doesn't realize he blacked out until his eyes open to Hajime's mildly concerned face.

"Oh thank god," Hajime sighs. 

Nagito laughs a little, "What, did you think you killed me with your dick? Now  _ that _ would be a fun class trial. Oh, did you finish?"

Hajime rolls his eyes, "Yeah, apparently just after you up and died for a moment."

"I wasn't dead, I know what that feels like. Haven't you heard of what they call orgasms in France? Small death!" Nagito laughs, kissing Hajime's cheek. 

Hajime rolls over and lays next to Nagito, pulling the pale man into his arms, "You're a menace."

"Oh? What's that supposed to mean?" Nagito asks.

"Nothing, just that you're exhausting. In all the best ways, that is," Hajime adds, pressing a kiss to Nagito's cheek. 

"How sweet."

"Yup, I'm pretty sure one of Izuru's talents is Ultimate Flattery." 

Nagito shakes his head, nuzzling Hajime's chest, "No, that's not a real talent. At least, not in the history of Hope's Peak."

"What? Do you have the entire class history of Hope's Peak memorized?"

"Yes actually. It's quite fascinating. I read about one student from the forty-second class, Haru Katsuki, and she was the Ultimate Doll Maker. She herself looked like a doll, real pale and delicate. Her creations are highly valued now. Or were, before."

"Huh. That is actually pretty cool. It never really crossed my mind that you probably know a lot of stuff, since you claimed to be the Ultimate Ultimate Fanatic."

"I'm not stupid, just," Nagito paused, sesrching for a word that wasn't 'disgusting' or 'worthless' and eventually settled on, "just a little off."

"A little?"

"I thought you wanted me to be more confident."

"I'm just joking, sorry," Hajime combs his fingers through Nagito's hair in a way that makes him want to pass out again. 

But unfortunately, "Let me up, I want to clean up."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Morning, Nah—gee—toe!" Ibuki sings when Nagito goes to fetch breakfast in the morning, hoping to surprise Hajime before he wakes. 

"Good morning, Mioda." Nagito nods, trying to figure out the best way to carry breakfast to the cottage.

"Ibuki talked to Mikan! And she gave me a kiss! She's so sweet," Mioda laughs, then gasps, "Oh no, your nails! What happened?"

Nagito frowns, glancing at his hand. The polish is rubbed off in a few spots. 

"Ah, I suppose it wasn't dry."

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> whew, first danganronpa fic done! I haven't been in the fandom long (roughly two months or so) so my grasp of characters and certain details might be off. If you notice any errors please feel free to correct me :)


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